


The Last Straw

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Pre-Slash, Series: Awakenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obligatory epilogue to TSbyBS, Blair is out of the police academy and a Detective. Angst ensues and is not resolved within a one hour episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Straw

**Author's Note:**

> This assumes Blair carries a revolver, only because I'm more familiar with revolvers.

## The Last Straw

by CatMoran

Author's webpage: <http://home.netcom.com/~catmoran/warning.html>

Author's disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I don't own the canon characters or concept; I do own my original characters and this story. 

Thanks to: Kaki and my mom, for their comments and feedback on the final draft. 

Feedback: Positive or negative, but please be gentle. This is the first fiction I've written in about 25 years. 

Archive: SA archive - definitely. Personal archives - of course, and I'd be flattered. Anywhere else - please ask first. 

* * *

The Last Straw  
By CatMoran : catmoran@ix.netcom.com 

The gentle tap-tap-tap of fingers on a keyboard woke him; Jim smiled and opened his eyes, preparing a friendly early-morning insult for his hard-working Guide. 

As white ceiling tiles slowly came into focus and he realized he was not in his bed in the loft, the sound resolved into the reality of rain striking the pavement below. This was immediately followed by awareness of pain near his right temple. Turning his head toward the sound of soft snoring, he saw Simon's large frame sprawled in the too-small, visitor's chair. Toward the head of the bed he could see several monitors blinking. One he recognized as a heart monitor, the others he dismissed. 

"Captain?" 

"Mph." 

"Captain." 

"Whazzit." 

"Simon!" 

"What! Oh. Jim. Sorry, I guess I dozed off. How're you feeling?" Simon sat up and scooted the chair closer to the bed, then buzzed for the nurse. 

Jim considered this for a moment. "I've got a headache, and things seem a touch blurry. I think we can skip the classic 'where am I,' but the last thing I remember is going to bed last night--That was last night, wasn't it?" 

Simon slumped almost imperceptibly in the chair. "Damn. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me what happened. Yes, it was last night. You were shot. Could have been a lot worse, it just grazed your scalp. Still, you had the Doctor a bit worried, with you being unconscious this long. I figured you were zoned, but I wasn't sure..." 

"'You' weren't sure? What'd Sandburg say?" 

"...." 

"Captain?" 

"You're sure you don't remember anything?" Simon had an almost pleading look on his face. 

Jim sighed. "Captain, would I be asking if I knew? Please, just answer the question." 

"He's upstairs. Psych Ward." 

" _Psych_ Ward?! _Why_? What the hell happened?" A pained look crossed his face, "what did I fail to protect him from, this time?" 

"It appears that he shot you. A neighbor heard the gunshot and called 911." 

Jim lay in stunned silence, trying to digest the information. 

"Blair. Shot me." 

"I think so." 

"And he's in the Psych Ward." 

"That's right." 

"Has he said anything? And _what_ happened?" 

"No. He's completely non-responsive. Doesn't do anything, hasn't said a word. As for what happened, all we know so far, is the uniforms who responded had to break down the door." Simon shifted in his chair and looked away briefly before continuing. "They found Sandburg sitting on his bed, holding his service revolver, and you lying on the floor in front of him, with a nasty-looking scalp wound." 

"Shit." 

"Yup." 

"So, what're we going to do?" 

"Well, _you're_ going to recover and remember what happened. I'm going to try to figure out what happened, and dodge the DA and IA and the Police Chief until then." 

"And Sandburg?" 

"I haven't a clue." 

* * *

Jim was just finishing his 'delicious' dessert of off-brand lime gelatin when he heard familiar footsteps approaching his room. "Captain, it's about time. What have you found out?" 

Simon dropped into the visitor's chair and produced a cigar from his coat pocket. "Nice to see you too, Jim. I take it you haven't remembered anything? You look better." 

"The doctors spent the day confirming that I've got a concussion and I'm recovering from blood loss. I'm just glad they've unhooked those blamed monitors, the blinking was about to drive me crazy. And no, I haven't remembered anything. You know I'd have called you, if I had." 

"Of course. Forensics finished their report." 

"And?" 

"The only bullet in the room was fired from Sandburg's revolver. The only prints on the grip are his-" 

"On the grip? There are other prints?" 

"Your prints are on the barrel." 

"So I grabbed his revolver, before, or as, he fired it." 

"Looks that way." 

"What about the trajectory?" 

"It was fired from where Sandburg was sitting; it was aimed just to the right of where your head would be if you were standing in front of him where you fell." 

"So... He may have been defending himself." 

"From you? That's hard to believe, Jim." 

"Is it, Sir? I have no memory of the shooting, anything could have happened." 

"I just don't buy it." 

"And you can buy Blair shooting me? It's the only thing that makes sense, Blair would never shoot without provocation." 

"There's also the Psychiatrist's report to consider." 

Jim sat forward, and immediately regretted it as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him. Simon moved to steady him and help him lean back. "Whoa there, Jim. That's not a good idea with a head injury." 

"It's just a concussion, Captain. And don't change the subject. Why didn't you tell me you'd spoken with Blair's doctor?" 

"Maybe because you interrupted me and I hadn't gotten to it?" Simon sighed and returned to his chair. "And because I'm still trying to digest it myself," said in a mutter that only a sentinel could hear. 

"Out with it." Even lying down, Jim could make people forget who was the boss. 

"Right. Well. His condition is called catatonia. He's not responding to anything, although he may be aware of everything that's happening. It can be caused by a prolonged period of isolation or depression... or schizophrenia." On the last word, Simon looked down at the cigar he was worrying in his hands. 

"Captain, Blair is not schizophrenic. What are they doing to treat him?" 

"What else could it be? He's certainly not isolated, and he's too damn bouncy to be depressed. Unfortunately, he's in the age range for onset of schizophrenia. As for treatment, they've got him on an IV to prevent dehydration, and they're administering anti-depressants--that's a common treatment regardless of the cause. If he doesn't respond soon, they'll consider electric shock treatment." 

" _Simon_!" 

Jim flipped off his covers and sat up. Simon dropped his cigar and stood, pushing Jim back and pinning him to the bed with little more than a look. 

"Jim, _calm_ down and lie back down! Now listen to me." Simon sat down and rushed to explain. "This isn't a harmless condition, and electric shock treatments have changed a lot since the bad old days that you, and I, remember from movies. The patient is sedated, and the treatment is very precise. There is slight memory loss, but it's a generally temporary condition, and much better than the mental and physical degradation that will occur if the catatonia isn't reversed. And they'll only use it if he doesn't respond to the medication." 

"Captain..." Jim looked up, his eyes suspiciously bright. Simon leaned forward and rested his hand on Jim's shoulder. 

"I know, Jim. I'll watch out for him. You get some sleep, the sooner you can take over the job, the better we'll both feel." 

* * *

The wolf ran through the jungle, gaining speed as it darted through the heavy underbrush. Suddenly, it leapt into--no, in front of--a panther. The arrow flying toward the panther connected with the breast of the wolf. With a gasp, the wolf collapsed to the ground. 

<<Blair!>>

Jim woke with a barely suppressed scream, and struggled against the urge to find and protect his Guide. As he waited for his heart and breathing to slow from the nightmare, he remembered. 

* * *

"Banks." 

"Captain, it's Jim. I remember what happened." 

"...it's 5 a.m. Give me an hour." 

"I'll see you then, sir." 

* * *

"Jim, are you ready to give me your statement?" Pleasantries were abandoned, in the hope that what he was about to hear would erase the charges pending against half of his best team. 

"Well, I can tell you what happened." 

"Ok, shoot." Simon remained standing, and turned on his pocket voice recorder. 

"I had a dream last night-" 

Simon turned the recorder off. "Jim, you woke me up for a dream?" 

"Just let me finish? Trust me, it's a short story." 

"Fine, fine. So, you had a dream." 

"Right. Blair's spirit guide died. More to the point, his guide sacrificed himself to save my spirit guide. And when I woke up, I remembered that I had the same dream 2 nights ago..." At this point, Simon turned the recorder back on. 

* * *

Two nights ago: 

The wolf ran through the jungle, gaining speed as it darted through the heavy underbrush. Suddenly, it leapt into--no, in front of--a panther. The arrow flying toward the panther connected with the breast of the wolf. With a gasp, the wolf collapsed to the ground. 

<<Blair!>>

Jim woke with a barely suppressed scream. As he waited for his heart and breathing to slow from the nightmare, he heard a gun being cocked. Before the sound fully registered, Jim had his own gun out of the bedside drawer and was down the stairs, moving quickly toward the sound. 

He was horrified by the sight that greeted him in his Guide's bedroom--Blair, sitting on his bed, mouth open, service revolver _in_ _his_ _mouth_... 

...Jim leapt for the gun and yanked the barrel away from Blair, as the world exploded... 

* * *

"Sandburg-" 

"-didn't shoot me. He was about to shoot himself. I stopped him, but nearly got myself nailed in the process. I guess the shock of seeing me go down, is what shut him down." 

"Why?" Simon shut off the recorder and collapsed into the chair, a look of puzzled grief and shock on his face. "Nothing's happened recently, there was the warehouse district shooting 2 weeks ago, but he was cleared of that almost immediately." 

"He... I think... he was finishing what started 8 months ago." 

"8 months ago... at the academy?" 

"No, sir, at the press conference." 

"But why now? I thought, everything was ok." 

"It wasn't. He wasn't. I know he likes working in Major Crimes, but when it became his only option... and he had to carry a gun... he doesn't want the power of life and death over other people. It's just not his way. That's for a Sentinel to bear; a Shaman is a teacher, a healer." 

"So why now?" Simon said in low voice. 

"A few days ago, the perp he shot, died. 3 days ago, there was an obituary in the paper, listing the guy's survivors. Including an infant daughter. I think that was the last straw." 

"He's not schizophrenic." 

"No, Simon." 

"He won't be back on the force without a lot of counseling." 

"He won't be back. I'll make sure he has a better alternative this time." 

"You still zone, sometimes." 

"I know. Maybe it's time I followed him." 

"Is that what a sentinel does?" 

"It'll be what this sentinel does." 

The End 


End file.
